Zinnia Blossoms Ch. 03

Then I got a phone call that I thought might just save me - it was my boss, calling me in to work. Could I work? Sure I could. Did it bother me he'd sent me home the same day? Nope. I hadn't been paying attention. I'd be more careful this time. Besides, someone had called in sick who was supposed to be working later than normal hours.

A knock on my door as I was getting dressed for work (again) had to be my mother's, I'd guessed, but it turned out to be Sandy with Sally in tow.

"Yeah, that's right," Sally had snapped at me (or maybe just snapped at the world in general) as they came in, seeing me topless. Well, topless isn't quite accurate. I was in boxers and that's it. "You can wander around almost naked but if we do -"

"Hey," I quipped, forcing my voice to remain light, "bikinis work on you so we're even. Besides, I'm not 'wandering around,' I'm 'getting dressed' and you happen to have come into my room."

I struck a rather indignant pose, one fist on my hip, and noticed that both of my sisters were looking somewhat southward of my face. I flushed slightly when I saw my boxers weren't doing a damn thing to disguise my dangling cock but I wasn't hard so I just looked back at them with that 'Well?' expression they've used on me so many, many times.

"Um..." Sally swallowed visibly and looked up at me. "We're off. So's Mum. What're you getting dressed for?" They'd all thought I was back for the night.

"Work," I answered, still standing there, but I turned and bent over to pick up my pants, keeping my back to them as I pulled them up my body. Hopefully they hadn't seen me start to react to their stares but if they had, well, too late now. "I got called in again."

"Oh, well, have fun!" Sandy said, her voice just a little too bright and quick. I flushed; yeah, they'd seen.

Then they bustled out and I got dressed.

What else could I do?

*****

Work was shit, by the way.

I mean really shit. Everything went wrong that could go wrong and I can proudly say that none of it was my fault. Oh, the slouch of the office was going to try to blame me, of course, but I'd kept all my work orders and receipts. I'd obtained signatures everywhere I had to and some places I didn't. No, I wasn't going to go down as easily as that fucker Bryant thought I was going to.

When I got home, though, it was in a temper.

A man coming home and slamming doors, stomping about - it can be intimidating, to say the least, but my family finds it 'cute.' They know I'm not the violent sort so my sisters just kind of giggle at me which, of course, only makes it worse.

They were still out on the town when I got home, though, and found Mum drinking wine from a shot glass. Nowthat'scute. It's like pretending to be a hardcore whiskey drinker but wanting to avoid smelling like kerosene.

Man, was she drunk. I mean,reallydrunk. We're not talking falling-off-your-chair wasted, here, but definitely loss-of-inhibitions drunk. Funnily enough she could still string words together just fine and I remember wondering at the time if she was pretending to be more drunk than she was... but I doubt it.

We tried to talk, I got some vodka for myself (because 'Hey son, you remember how you saw me fucking myself?' isn't a conversation to have sober) and then... I don't know what happened. One minute she was worried, then she was telling me how horny she'd been and then she was crying like she'd been left by Dad all over again.

And then she was kissing me, and I was kissing her back and...

I'm not going to go over the whole event because I knowfor a factthat Mum's already written about it. But I will say this:

Mum is better at giving head than Amanda could ever hope to be and if she was that good at actual sex while half-crippled with guilt and alcohol then I'm outright scared at the kind of good time she must have been able to show my Dad.

And he'dstillwalked away.

So that's how the weirdest day of my life ended - with my mother's pussy dripping my cum and neither of us knowing what the hell to do about what had just happened.

*****

I put her in her own bed after we'd slept the night away, before I went down to get some coffee. She was still fast asleep but she mumbled my name and the words 'lovely fuckin' cock' as I did so. So yeah. That was odd.

Not sure how long I sat there thinking. My first cup of coffee grew cold, untouched, the milk doing that weird skin-growing thing that it does when it's just left to sit. I made a face and then a new cup of coffee and was staring off into space again when Mum came down. She took my coffee away and gave me tea - I only really drink coffee when I'm stressed out - and told me she had no regrets.

I have no words for how much relief and guilt I felt right then. Mum had no regrets about begging her only son to fuck her - and having him agree... The idea was surreal. So was the bulge growing again in my pants which, gladly, Mum couldn't see.

She'd never seemed so beautiful.

Then we agreed we'd talk about it later, chatted about shit that doesn't matter and I left for work.

I had a hard-on for the whole day. It freaked me out, not because of the fact of it but because it was over my mother. Mymother!What the hell, Dane?

* * * * *

Not until a week later did we get time alone to discuss things.

Sally and Sandy spent a lot of time either hanging around the house or going out on the same nights either Mum or I did (yes, I do go out from time to time). Part of me felt frustrated because I just wanted the conversation done and dusted while the other half was relieved for the reprieve. I think Mum felt the same way.

I don't know what Sandy and Sally thought but whatever it was they seemed a lot more clingy than normal. Maybe Mum didn't notice but I sure as hell did and for a few reasons.

Then again maybe I was just watching harder than I normally would.

*****

Then, one sunny morning, Sandy used my ensuite.

That's actually not too unusual. Sometimes Sally takes her sweet damn time in the shower and Sandy comes in and uses mine - but typically she doesn't do it while I'm still in the room. She'll wait until I'm downstairs. But that day? Nope.

"Hi," she said that morning, bustling into my room in her cute owl pyjamas and carrying a couple of towels. "I'm using your shower, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, or for me to leave the room, she went and I heard the water running soon after.

I went downstairs and made a sandwich. It was weird, given the last few days, so I needed some space from the idea that one wall away my sister was stripping down and getting wet. Nothing quite like a sandwich for grounding yourself, I always say. I lingered over its construction for a while, chose just the right ingredients and then cut it into four pieces, diagonally (sandwiches taste better when they're triangles, it's scientific fact). When I went back up I listened at my door and, hearing nothing, headed back in to sit on my bed.

A clunk of something in the bathroom made me roll my eyes. I thought Sandy would be out of the room by now but no, she'd just been doing whatever it is she does after her shower. Well, dammit, it wasmyroom so I was staying put.

It was a rebellious, stubborn decision but it was the one I made.

Sandy came out soon after wrapped in a towel from the waist down. Not the breasts down - the waist down. The way it was folded really didn't cover much and as she moved it looked like it might fall down at any moment, but it didn't. The second towel was draped around the back of her neck, the ends hanging down to cover the front of her breasts but not the sides.

Lots of side-boob going on. It must have been intentional, itmusthave been, and aimed to make fun of me. I'm a bit of a boob-man, you see, and my sisters know it very well.

"Oooh, sandwich," she bubbled, leaning down to grab some of it. Yes, you guessed it, the towel ends dangled forward and I got a good view of her breasts, thankful for the plate my sandwich was on. Munching happily she went out.

That sick, giddy feeling of arousal and guilt raised its head and I slapped it down as best I could - which is to say, barely at all. I was tired of feeling it, tired of my sisters making it rise in me and reallydamntired of not knowing if it was intentional or not.

*****

Barely a minute later the door opened and Sally poked her head in.

"Have you seen Sandy? Oooh, sandwich!" Her eyes lit up. I make good sandwiches. You know that whole 'get in the kitchen, woman, and make me a sandwich' bullshit that sexist dweebs bandy about? Yeah. My sisters tell me that all the time. So does my mother, when she's feeling playful. And I do it, too.

I let out a groan and held the plate up, not standing from my spot on my bed. I'd been watching television, not really comprehending it, mind still working over the sight of Sandy's breasts (oh, and that whole I-had-sex-with-my-mother thing).

Sally came in, eyes alight with greed, and it turned out that she hadn't bothered with a t-shirt - or shorts, for that matter. Her panties - probably some species of thong, I don't really know the right terms - were that kind that you pull up high over your hip bones and they looked really good. I could see the shape of her mound outlined in the cloth and she wasn't bothering to cover it or her tits.

"Sally!" I protested.

"What? You make tasty - oh." She looked down at herself. "Well, I figure you've seen my tits now and these panties don't show any more than most of the bikini bottoms I wear, so no big deal."

That was actually a good point, so I didn't argue it. Still, I saw her eyes glance, double-take and then slide across my crotch and knew that growing lump was betraying me. Funnily enough she didn't say anything about it. Either of my sisters failing to take the opportunity to make fun of me - at least when I'm not obviously upset - is rare and it surprised me.

"Thanks for the sandwich," she grinned, and then walked out of the room. There was a roll to her hips I hadn't seen before - maybe it'd been there but I hadn't noticed it. The fact that her panties were showing off her bum might have made it more obvious, I don't know.

*****

Soon after that my Mum knocked on the door. When she came in I just held up the plate; I could see where this was going. She laughed at my weary expression but accepted the triangle of food, watching me as she bit into it. She was looking me up and down, too, but at least I understood whyshewas doing it.

"The girls are going out," she informed me, sitting by my side on the bed.

"Oh, are they?" I asked, sounding much more cheerful than I intended to. Mum gave me a real funny look then and it took me a few seconds to realise that we'd agreed to talk about the whole incest thing when they'd gone out. "Sorry," I blushed, "they've just been teasing me a bit. Getting a break from them would be, you know. Welcome."

"Really?" Mum asked, tilting her head slightly to the left. "How have they been teasing you?"

What could I say? My cheeks went bright red and I mumbled something, I don't recall what.

"Dane," Mum began, utilising that Mum-voice that means 'I'm not leaving this alone so you just bloody well tell me, young man.' After a few seconds I just shrugged and took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"I accidentally saw Sally take her top off last week. The same day we... you know." I swallowed hard. "Then Sandy flashed me, said it was a test to see if I was some kind of incestuous creeper." I laughed, sounding bitter even to me. "Turns out I guess they were right, in a way." Yes, Mum had told me not to blame myself. As if.

"Oh?" The word had an odd note to it, amused and slightly... I don't know. Heated?

I just shrugged and made a hand gesture as if to say 'you know.' I know she knew. Maybe she wanted to hear me say it but she let it go for the moment.

"Have you fucked them?" She didn't say 'either of them.' She didn't have to. Sally and Sandy are a package deal and I couldn't seethathappening with one and not the other. But maybe that was just me being weirdly wishful.

"Mum! No!" I stared at her in blatant shock. I'm not sure what surprised me more, that she suggested such a thing or that she's said 'fuck' without a belly full of alcohol.

She laughed and shook her head. Her red fringe flipped across her forehead. Reaching out she bridged the space between us and wrapped her arms around one of mine, hugging it and shifting closer so we were sitting hip to hip. She rested her head on my shoulder and we sat there for a while.

"I'm going to start by saying it first," she began in a careful tone. "We had sex. I was very drunk and frustrated but that aside what happened was that I seduced you, my own son, and we lay in this very bed and fucked." There was a long pause. "And it was really damn good." Another pause. "And I want to do it again, so damn badly."

Her tone was low and soft but smoky as well, seductive without ever meaning to be. That was the most deadly thing about my mother - she could seduce you without ever meaning to.

"I want to pull out your cock and suck on it until it's rock hard," she added.

"Too late for that," I interjected, and she giggled.

"Then I want to push you onto your back and impale myself on you. I want you to turn me over and stare into my eyes as you pound me, then stand up and bend me over your desk, pull my hair as hard as you can while you're fucking my drooling cunt from behind..."

"Holy shit, Mum," I protested, and she slapped my arm lightly.

"Language," she admonished, completely hypocritically. Then she sighed sadly. "What's wrong with me, Dane? Why am I so fucked up?"

This shook me a little. She and I have discussed a lot of things before, particularly finances - we're the only two earners in the house and my sisters don't want a say in how the money's spent anyway, insist that it's ours so why don't we stop bothering them about it.

What I realised, though, was that in that moment she wasn't Mum talking to her son, not even having a mature conversation with her son. She was Zinnia talking to Dane, two adults having a talk that would probably change things forever between us.

"I don't think you're fucked up," I suggested, and she didn't tell me off for swearing this time. "I think you're sick of feeling alone and you wanted someone to be close to. I think you were drunk and got a bit excited and it was me who was sober - well, almost sober," I allowed, "but I should have stopped it."

There was a pause as she considered this.

"Why didn't you?"

"Truth?"

"Truth," she nodded.

"Because you have no idea how sexy you are," I told her. "You were there and you wanted me and before I knew it I was just overwhelmed by you."

"And you think that I'm not fucked up because..." She fished around for the reasons. "I was drunk and sexy and lonely?" I could tell I'd made her happy with my comments about her attractiveness, even if she didn't believe me.

"More or less."

"Then explain why I want this," she challenged me, moving one hand down from my arm and across the bulge in my shorts, "in every damn hole you can manage to shove it into." The rub became a caress, then a grip and squeeze. I didn't stop her and, emboldened, she slid her hand down the front to grasp at my rod. "Even when I'm stone cold sober."

I groaned as she pulled it out, somehow knowing that it was always going to come to this. I throbbed in her fist, bringing my hand up to run through her hair as she slid away from me a little, then leaned over my lap.

"Explain to me why I'm doing this," she added, engulfing my cock in her mouth so suddenly and so deeply that all the air seemed to be squeezed out of me. She paused to make a specific show of running her tongue around the head, planting the softest of kisses on it before drawing back and sitting up.

"Um," I suggested, confused as she reached into a pocket of her tracksuit. My eyes widened when I saw her pull out a tube of lipstick and watched her grin, popping the lid.

"You love lipstick, don't you? Every last one of your girlfriends has had a taste for it and I don't think it's a coincidence." With expert skill she applied a deep red tint to her beautiful mouth, making kissing motions at the mirror to check the effect before turning back to me. "I'm putting it on just for you, Dane, especially for you."

Then she opened her mouth wide and licked the palm of her hand, ran it over the head of my cock and down the shaft, following it close behind with her painted, stunning lips.

I'm putting it on just for you, Dane, especially for you...

I'm still not sure how I managed to avoid exploding in her mouth right then and there. Her eyes never left mine as she slid down, swirled up, sucking and dipping. When my hand found her hair she leaned against it slightly and I gripped it. That caused a faint frown to flicker across her face and she released my cock with a wet pop.

"Hard," she insisted. "Make it sting."

I gave her a little shrug and, with an apologetic smile, grabbed a fistful of her beautiful hair, tugging it in a sideways, twisting motion. I expected her to back me off a bit but she let out a low, shuddering moan, slurping in my shaft with renewed enthusiasm. My eyes went wide but I didn't stop, moving her head up and down experimentally.

She gave a small, frantic nod and relinquished control, letting me fuck the red O of her mouth as I pleased. One hand ran over her breasts and the other went straight down her tracksuit pants, relying on me completely for control of depth and speed. At first I was cautious, worried I might hurt her, but slowly I came to terms with it. I fucked mer mouth shallow and quick, deep and long, before pulling out suddenly.

I remembered her little sad whine from that night a week earlier, our first night, and it made me smile but I shook my head and pulled her up for a kiss. There was a faint lipstick ring near the base of my cock and that made me hornier than ever.

My hands sought and found the hem of her tracksuit top, pulled it up and over her head, eyes widening as her magnificent breasts bounced free. Rounded, heavy and generous, they begged to be sucked and I obliged for a while, rolling the puffy nipples in my mouth and biting them to see how much she could take. Quite a lot, it turned out, and she especially loved having them twisted.

There was something very freeing in that moment - the house to ourselves, my mother's impassioned moaning, the way she turned with a saucy grin to let me pull her tracksuit pants down to find she had no panties on - that made the whole thing seem... right. She wasn't my mother, she was a seriously hot woman who, by some miracle, wanted me. I wasn't her son, I was some lucky dumb bastard who had his chance at pleasing a redheaded Goddess.

Or maybe that wasn't it, that we both knew damn well what we were doing but didn't care any more - or at least didn't think we'd get caught. Either way it was fun.

No, fun's not the word.

I kissed her arse as it slid into view, revealed little by little as her tracksuit pants were pulled down. There, squeezed between her thighs, and set beneath her tempting butt, was the wettest damn pussy I've ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was just the sheer wind-up and the strange lack of guilt this time around but Mum was as wet as the proverbial shag. I could see a few drops of her fluid running down one leg and a glance down at the crotch of her pants proved them dark with her honey.

I ran my fingers over her sex, wanting nothing more than to push her over and bend her over my desk like she'd purred to me earlier, but I wanted to taste her first. Down onto the bed she went, laying with her legs coyly shut and with a surprisingly shy look on her face. A memory arose of her fear that last time, begging me to be careful with her, a worry so at odds with the vibrant sexual being who had moaned as I'd man-handled her head on my cock.